The Girl who was on Fire and The Boy that was Ablaze
by BananasInLoungewear
Summary: Is fate on their side? The odds certainly are not. Katniss and Gale are forced into the 74th annual Hunger Games knowing that there can only be one victor. Can rules be changed or is this their end? Plenty of twists ensured.
1. Chapter 1

Is fate on their side? The odds certainly are not. Katniss and Gale are forced into the 74th annual Hunger Games knowing that there can only be one victor. Can rules be changed or is this their end? Plenty of twists ensured.

**Hey this is my first Hunger Games fic and I'm really excited! I've had this idea floating around in my head ever since I first read the books (yes, I know it's been done before!). Hopefully this story will end up taking a few interesting twists, though! It'll be mostly in Katniss' POV, but I might change it up every so often, such as in this first chapter! Enjoy and be sure to review what you think. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Peeta POV**

I roll my neck slowly, listening for each click of bone, doing anything to take my mind of the nausea building in my throat. Today is reaping day. The most dreaded day of the year. My fingers twitch by my sides and I know fighting to keep still is pointless. I always fidget when I'm nervous.

The District Twelve escort takes the stage emerging from the doors of the Justice Building and taps the microphone. Like every year she looks terrifying and out of place. The noise of her claw-like nails hitting the microphone echoes, revibrating from the speakers situated all over the square and my stomach lurches. The clip of Panem's history plays and as it ends, the screen goes black. Effie Trinket begins.

"Ladies and Gentleman, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman to represent District Twelve in the 74th annual Hunger Games!"

She glides to the left bowl.

"Ladies first, of course," she chimes.

Her hand childishly swirls through the bowl stopping to pluck one name. District Twelve is silent as she makes her way back to the microphone. She unfolds each corner of the paper slowly, purposely, building suspense.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

Everdeen!

My heart thuds when I hear the name, for a second assuming the worst. But I've misheard. It's not Katniss but her tiny sister who doesn't even look old enough to be getting reaped.

Heads turn to face the small shaking twelve year old as peacekeepers appear at her sides and grip her arms. They make a start towards the stage when an urgent voice rings out through the crowd.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

No!

Katniss pushes through the crowd, screaming again.

My heart pounds harder. This can't be happening.

All around people begin to whisper, only making me dizzier.

"A volunteer?"

"Is that Katniss Everdeen?"

"That's her sister!"

I watch the horrible scene unfold before my eyes. Katniss reaches her sister and hugs her to her chest, shielding her from harm. She's screaming again that she volunteers and her sister's sobs are racking through the square.

"No! Katniss, no! You can't go!" her strangled cries are louder than Effie Trinket who is desperately trying to regain the situation.

The peacekeepers confused for a second, stand motionless, before they get the point. A mass of white figures pulls the two sisters apart, leading Katniss up the stairs and leaving her sister behind. A boy pushes through the crowd and bends down to scoop her up. She thrashes against him wailing for Katniss to come back, he's trying to calm her down but she continues to cry and he carries her back like that, towards where her mother must be.

"Now that's the spirit of the Games!" exclaims Effie when Katniss has reached her. The cameras zoom up on their separate faces, displaying them across various screens in the square. Effie ridiculous and Katniss blank.

"What's your name, dear?"

"Katniss Everdeen," her voice is steely and hard, her eyes glassy.

"Well, I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we now?"

Katniss doesn't respond.

"And now for the boys!" continues Effie, unfazed.

Suddenly I want it to be me. I want to get picked as tribute. To protect Katniss, keep her safe, to do something instead of just chucking a loaf of burnt bread to a dying girl! But just as quickly as the thought comes, it goes. Katniss wouldn't want me to protect her; she'd want someone like her boyfriend. He'd do a better job than me anyway. I find his bulky figure again, parting the crowds to get Primrose to her mother.

I turn back to Effie just in time to see her pick a name from the bowl on the right, as she is about to pull it out, it slips from her fingers. Just like that, someone is safe. Her hand plunges back in and grabs a different slip.

Back at the microphone she unfolds the small paper, clears her throat and announces-

"Gale Hawthorn."

The figure I was watching before stops dead in his tracks. The tiny girl wailing in his arms stops for a second and hiccups shocked. He takes a moment to place her gently on the ground and turn around. Slowly he begins the long walk towards the stage, his head held high and jaw locked.

"Well! A round of applause for our two lovely tributes; Katniss Everdeen and Gale Hawthorn!" Effie exclaims.

Nobody claps and nobody cheers. We take a silent stand. Then we're all lifting three fingers to our mouths and raising our hands. My heart pangs as I follow suit. It's an old District Twelve gesture of respect and admiration, as well as a sign of goodbye to a loved one.

On stage Katniss looks in shock. Her mouth is slightly ajar, lips trembling. Her previous cool demeanour changed into one of fright. Effie brightly asks them to shake hands and I watch as instead Gale steps forward and pulls her hand into his, holding it.

That's when Haymitch Abernathy appears, completely drunk and overly late. He stumbles onto the stage a bottle still in his hand and exclaims "I like these two. They've got spunk!" he motions towards their hands before flailing and falling face first onto the floor.

/

As masses of people begin to escape the Square, my parents appear at my sides. My mother quickly pats my elbow and my father pulls me towards him for an embrace. In his eyes I see sympathy; he knew about Katniss.

"It'll be alright, Peeta." he adds quietly "She's a clever girl."

"Maybe District Twelve will finally have a victor this year!" asserts my mother catching his words "Those seam kids are survivors!"

I nod sombrely turning away "Yeah, maybe."

My mother already over it, begins talking about the bakeries profits with Darren and Mercer, but my father stays at my side.

"You could go see her, you know. What about those cookies you iced yesterday? She'd like them."

I swallow hard and shake my head "It's not my place."

My father nods and we start making our way back home and I know that between us, the topic of Katniss Everdeen will never come up again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys! Sorry for the long wait but I have a Beta now! Hopefully the story will flow better and have fewer mistakes, so yay! Trapped In Narnia is amazing, so I'd just like to thank her. Also a big thanks to anyone who reviwed, favourited and followed the story :) Enjoy. **

**Gale POV**

The doors of the Justice Building shut behind us and I feel utterly trapped. The place is large, dark and dusty.

I've been reaped.

I'm going into the Games.

Katniss is with me.

The words repeat themselves in my head over and over, like some sick mantra.

"You, to the left," a newly appeared peacekeeper directs Katniss "And you, to the right," I realize I've still been holding her hand; I drop it and see the imprints her fingers have left on mine. The peacekeeper who is neither Cray nor Darius or any other I've seen in District Twelve speaks again "Hurry up." I step though the door on my right.

It's by far the richest place I've ever set foot in. Heavy carpets and drapes, stuffed couches and chairs and dark ornate tables, but the whole room has an unpleasant smell lingering about it. With a slightly sickening feeling I realize this room is probably only used once a year; a waiting room for the soon-to-be-dead. Can that somehow be the source of the smell?

My family burst through the door.

"Oh Gale!" I'm enveloped in my mother's arms.

The truth of the situation hits me like a punch in the gut. This might be the last time I see them.

"Mum," I whisper quietly back.

Her whole frame shakes from silent sobs and I shakily extend my arms to hug her. I sink my face into her shoulder and breathe in her scent, grinding my teeth to stop myself from crying. Slowly her sobs cease and we lift our heads.

"Be strong, darling. We'll be with you every step," she manages before choking up.

There's a tug on my pants and I turn to find Posy. I lift her to sit in my arms.

"Are you going somewhere?" she enquires.

"Yes, princess, I'm going away for a little bit," a lump rises in my throat as I suddenly realize I'm bitterly glad she's so young. She won't remember much.

"Where you going?" she pulls on a bit of my hair.

"Somewhere," I hesitate trying to find the right word "different."

"I don't want you to go," she says pressing her face into my shoulder and gripping me tightly "I'll miss you," she adds her voice muffled.

"I'll miss you too, princess. But just remember I love you and I _always _will, wherever I am."

She nods "Love you," and kisses my cheek wetly. Mum comes and takes Posy into her own arms.

Vick steps up next. His entire body shakes and tears continue to slide down his face. At 10 he hasn't grown quite as much as Rory so I bend to face him.

"Don't worry about me, okay?"

He shakes his head, silently trying to form words.

"You need to be strong for mum and Posy and even Rory, yeah?"

"Okay," he answers feebly.

"I can trust you to take care of everyone," I add with a weak smile whilst bringing him closer so I can hug him. His body is still shaking.

As he pulls back his eyes are pleading "Win. Win for us."

"I'll try," but as I answer my head fills with the cost of the promise.

"Promise to come back."

"I'll do my best, Vick."

Rory places a hand on Vick's shoulder and draws him closer. Then he faces me. He isn't crying but his eyes are popping slightly and betray all his hidden fears.

"Rory, when I'm gone, no _whilst_ I'm gone," I add for the benefit of Vick "try and remember the stuff I taught you about the forest. Remember those snares and traps I taught you how to make? You were a natural. Always listen to hear if the fence is on and don't wander in too far. Carry a weapon and climb trees for safety."

He nods taking in my every word.

"From Mrs. Everdeen you'll be able to borrow a book that will tell you which plants are edible and which are not. Be very careful though because it's easy to mistake some. Double check everything."

A knock on the door accompanied by a harsh voice tells me I've only got three minutes left. It's not enough.

I quickly hug Rory and whisper "You can do it.".

We all huddle in close for a final hug. As we break apart mum unties the worn necklace around her neck and fastens it around mine. She has worn it since the day my father died. It used to be his. It's a simple strip of black leather with a wooden crescent hanging from it.

"I can't take it from you," I insist.

My mother gently shakes her head. "Each day I look at you and Rory and Vick and Posy and see him. He'd want you to have it. He'll keep you safe."

I was wrong, there is time for another hug, it's all of us pressed together and my mother's voice "I love you. We all love you."

The door is yanked open and they're gone.

The images of their faces swim before my eyes and my head buzzes with their final words as I sink into the couch, dropping my face into my hands.

The sound of the door opening snaps me out of my state. It's Greasy Sae.

Her eye's wander around the room in awe but she finally clears her throat "I just wanted to say if I ever have any leftover soup or meat I'll do my best to give it your brothers or Prim. I won't let them starve."

I gape at her in shock before remembering my manners and jumping to my feet "Thankyou. Sae, I don't know how…" I fade off uneasily. What do I say to a woman who has just agreed to save my family?

"You're good kids, you and Katniss. It'll be a shame when you're gone…" she fades off as well. "Don't want take up any more of your time," she says awkwardly before stepping back towards the door.

"Wait. Thanks, again. Not just for this, but for trusting us and buying dog meat when no one else would." It's a poor way to thank her but it's all I got.

She smiles, though, as if she understands and leaves the room.

My neighbours visit me next. We've always been on friendly terms and their oldest son and I were in the same year.

"We will keep an eye on them, make sure there coping," says the mother.

The year before last it had been their daughter who was reaped. I still remember the horrible bloodcurdling screams that echoed from their house when she was killed in the bloodbath.

Sid claps me on the arm and wishes me luck and they too are gone.

The designated time for goodbyes is over and I'm pulled into a car where Katniss is already waiting. Her face is plain, she hasn't been crying. Trembling she extends her hand and I hold it in mine, putting the other around her shoulder and letting her lean into me.

I notice a glint of gold on her chest and see a pin fastened to her dress.

"Is this what you're taking into the arena?"

She fingers it gently and nods "Madge came in and gave it to me. It's a mockingbird."

I feel slightly guilty for snapping at her friend now.

"What about you?" she asks.

"This," I say pulling out the necklace from within my shirt.

"Oh, I haven't ever seen Hazelle without it," she breathes.

"It was my dad's."

Katniss nods understandingly as the car comes to a stop.

We had been right to hold of tears, the train station is swamped with reporters and camera crews.

Our faces stay passive as we get out, but we don't dare let go of each others hands.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everybody, sorry it's been ages again! On the upside, the story is staring to get more interesting! So thanks to everybody who has been reviewing and again to my beta who helped me out with this!**

**Katniss pov **

The train is much richer than even the Justice Building. It's sleek and modern and everyone gets their own room. Dressers are filled with fine clothes and food is literally brought to us on silver platters. The rooms even have an attached bathroom with both a bathtub and a shower.

But I'd prefer to be anywhere else in the world. _You won't be saying that in a few days time _I remind myself sickly.

I decide to take a shower even though I bathed today just for the thrill of it. Remembering just how time consuming it was to boil enough water for a hot wash back home makes me enjoy the shower twice as much. When I've wasted a sufficient amount of water I step out and wrap myself in one of the awaiting fluffy towels. Treading to the enormous wardrobe a knock on the door startles me.

"Supper is read- oh" breathes Effie, her head appearing around the door "I'll let you get changed first. The wardrobes here are simply superb, so choose whatever you like."

As soon as the sliding door clicks back into place I back away from the wardrobe. Anything Effie thinks is superb is not for me. I pull back on mother's dress, braid my damp hair and straighten Madge's pin.

The dining cart is long contemporary room found down the corridor from my own. A great table fills most of it with only four settings. Effie and Gale sit diagonally from each other, Gale looking highly out of place. He's changed into some of the clothes that must have been in his wardrobe and is scratching the table's surface, failing to not look tired from Effie's company, who seems to be re-telling the story of how she became an escort.

"Where's Haymitch?" I ask deciding to rescue him.

"Not the slightest idea. He obviously thinks he has other, more important things in his schedule," Effie replies daintily "Now that you've arrived, we can start," she claps her hands to rouse the train orderlies and they begin to bring the food.

Supper is a silent ordeal only because Gale and I have never seen so much food and are doing our best to make up for years of malnutrition. The dishes arrive in courses which is a new but very welcome concept to us. There's warm soup and colourful salad, tender lamb chops, fluffy spiced rice and bowls of foreign fruit served alongside rich chocolate cake. I've never eaten so much in life. When the meal begins to draw to an end I'm struggling to keep everything down but clamp my teeth shut and refuse to let it go.

"Why don't we move on to watch a re-cap of the reapings?" suggests Effie the expression of mild disgust still evident on her face, which she got from watching Gale and I wolf down everything with our hands.

The next compartment is equipped with an enormous television on the north wall with two long sofas channelled towards it. Gale and I settle on the green one and I draw my knees in under my chin, suddenly cold. Effie perches herself opposite to us.

It begins with District One, both tributes are volunteers. But unlike me they don't do it to save a sibling. No, they're Careers. I share in Gale's repulsion as they fight twenty others for the spot of volunteer. District Two is much the same, two Career tributes lunge forward proudly. The male tribute is huge and as he takes the stage he grins and winks at the cameras. I spot his parents crying from joy. Other tributes are more similar to us, both in size and attitude. I see little brothers and sisters bawling as their older siblings are reaped and friends fainting when the escorts read a name of someone close. The only tributes that stick with me though, are a sixteen year old redhead from Five and both tributes from Eleven; a tiny twelve year old girl and an enormous seventeen year old boy.

Finally our own reaping appears. Prim's name is called and my breath hitches. Gale rubs my shoulder reassuringly. I watch myself volunteer and I'm shocked to see and hear the desperation in my voice. Gale is reaped and the camera cuts to a scene of us grabbing hands. The commentators wonder if this is a normal custom instead of the usual handshake in District Twelve but don't recall seeing it any other year. They laugh loudly as Haymitch face plants and Effie angrily switches off the TV.

"Well I'd say you were the most exciting reaping until yourmentor decided to humiliate us all!" she huffs.

"It's better than last year, at least," Gale points out.

I remember the previous reaping where Haymitch was sick all over Mayor Undersee and snicker quietly.

"I'm glad you find it so funny!" she cries "For once I'd like to _not_ be the laughing stock of the Capitol." She says crossly and makes to leave the room.

The door slides open before she reaches it, though, and a dishevelled Haymitch crosses the threshold.

"Glad you could join us," she icily states before passing him and escaping out the door.

We're left in an uncomfortable silence as Haymitch lumbers over to the sofa and collapses onto it. I don't think he's drunk anymore but he's obviously trying to fix that with the dark bottle he holds in his hand. In between swigs of the bottle his grey eyes survey us.

"Are you two together or something?" he finally grumbles.

Why would he care?

"What's it to you?" Gale replies snidely.

"Touchy," smirks Haymitch tossing the empty bottle behind him and pulling a flask from within his coat "Shame, though, the Capitol would've loved a doomed romance."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Two kids desperately in love, both trying to save the other, all that bull," he snorts with a gulp of his drink.

We sit with just the sound of a tipping flask for a while.

"What gave you that idea anyway?" I ask finally breaking the stretch of stillness.

"What gave me what?" he asks confused.

"Why did you think Gale and I were together?"

"The way you're sitting right here," he gestures a lazy hand towards us.

And for the first time I look. Gale's arm is draped across the back of the sofa, his hand on my shoulder. With my knees curled under my chest, I'm leaning towards him. His other hand is splayed next to me, so closely. I remember suddenly I grabbed his hand when I saw Prim getting reaped again.

"You held hands at the reaping," Haymitch adds "and at the station again."

I'm impressed Haymitch was capable of noticing anything when was so drunk.

"And don't think I'm the only one who's noticed," he continues reading my mind.

"What's that supposed to mean," Gale repeats again.

"I mean, if I've noticed the hundreds of cameras following you, will have as well."

"So what's your advice?"

"My advice," he nods wisely "is to stay alive."

We wait for more but nothing comes.

"Great," replies Gale sarcastically.

"Is that all?" I ask ludicrously.

"Basically," he replies with another mouthful of the flask.

"Are you going to be drunk the whole time you're mentoring us, or just now?" asks Gale furiously.

Haymitch's eyes narrow in anger "Not drunk," he states.

"Sorry, hungover," Gale apologizes narrowing his eyes too.

"Stay out of it," snaps Haymitch.

"This is our _lives_ you're talking about," I interject, heat rising in my stomach.

"Save it for someone who cares, sweetheart."

"You're supposed to care," I reply outraged.

"Yeah well I gave that up a long time ago."

There's a short furious silence.

"No wonder District Twelve has never had a winner after you," Gale begins in a murderous tone "You're a filthy drunk who hasn't ever helped anyone but himself." In a swift movement Gale knocks the flask from Haymitch's hand and sends it flying to the floor.

We all watch a deep amber liquid slowly slug out.

Gradually Haymitch raises his eyes from the flask to Gale, then he lunges across the table and punches him straight in the jaw.

The two topple backwards in struggle.

Jumping back from the sofa to avoid them, I catch a glint of silver in between Haymitch's boot and the hem of his pants.

My heart starts pounding.

He's got a blade.

My instincts kick in and adrenalin pulses through my body. I throw myself onto Haymitch and yank him away, kicking back a confused Gale. Using all my weight and his confusion I manage to straddle him. With one hand I reach swiftly into his boot and tear loose the strap that's held the weapon in place. In less than a second I pull it to his throat.

The blood that was pumping through my ears lessens but doesn't quiet. The knife in my hand trembles slightly. A kicked back Gale warily raises.

"You. Had. This. In. Your. Boot!" I manage, my voice somehow sounding distant to me.

Haymitch's eyes previously glued to the knife inches from his throat rise to meet mine. They're shocked but not scared.

"Katniss," Gale's voice carefully states.

"He could have killed you!" I yell viciously.

"Sweetheart, you wouldn't come across a Victor who isn't armed at all times," Haymitch grunts beneath me "I don't go around killing tributes before they even reach the arena."

"C'mon Catnip, get up," Gale says calmly stepping closer "It's alright."

I look up at him. His familiar eyes pour into mine. I would never trust anyone more. Shakily I begin to lower the knife. In that split second I'm overwhelmed. I feel the blade being prised from my hands and desperately try to keep holding on as I'm flipped to the ground and pinned down.

Crushed like a pathetic bug beneath a kids boot I try to move but am completely trapped. My arms are pinned to my sides and my legs too are immobile underneath Haymitch's weight. I can do nothing more than pitiably pull my neck from the knife. To my right I hear Gale's furious yell.

"Thanks for not killing me, sweetheart," states Haymitch casually looming over the top of me, blade drawn up to my neck "But you ought not to hesitate next time." He jumps off me replacing the knife into his boot and offers a grimy hand.

"Suit yourself," he says with a shrug dropping his hand when I don't respond.

I blanch in shock for a second before it's Gale who is helping me up. I rise unsteadily massaging my wrist which was twisted in Haymitch's grip. I can't believe it, I was down on the ground and defenceless in a second, even Gale didn't have time to properly register what was happening.

"Are you alright?" he asks still by my side. Gently he pulls my sore wrist into his hands so he can inspect it.

I nod "What about you?" I ask assessing the red mark where he's been punched in the jaw and the cut on his lip.

"Fine," he reassures "D'you want some ice on this?"

"Both of you, straighten up," orders Haymitch whose retrieved his flask and pocketed it again.

We turn to face our bruised mentor, I can see now he's sporting a black eye.

"C'mon," he says irritably and Gale and I oblige, my wrist slipping from his hands. Slowly Haymitch makes his way around us, prodding at our muscles and pinching at our skin.

He nods when he's done "You've done better than the typical Seam kid," he states aloud "Shame you both had to turn up this year."

I wince at his words. I can't think about it. Not now.

When I reopen them Haymitch's steely gaze flickers from both of us "I'll make you a deal. You don't interfere with my drinking and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do _exactly_ as I say," he finishes.

I turn to look at Gale. It's not much but I suppose it's better than nothing. He nods.

"Deal."

"Good. Both of you to bed, now," he orders sending us out of the room "And Hawthorne leave your face, let the bruising show."

The corridor is cool and quiet as we make our way back to our rooms. I realize I'm exhausted and struggle to believe that just earlier today I was sitting underneath a big elm tree eating blackberries and cheese. We've reached our doors and Gale reaches out his hand once more to inspect my wrist.

"You have to ice this, Katniss," he whispers.

"Haymitch said no."

"No to me. Not to you. I'm not letting you enter the games with a single disadvantage," he says firmly.

He pushes past the sliding door to my room and orders the ice. When the orderlies arrive he slips off his jacket and wraps the ice in it before applying it my sore wrist. The weariness of the day is showing on him too, his movements are slow and he is constantly yawning, even though he is trying to hide it.

"Gale you don't have to stay," I say wanting to reassure him "I'm not going to die." The words are out of my mouth before I can comprehend them. A few days ago if I'd hurt my wrist out hunting and said the same thing Gale would probably laugh; now I only cause him to recoil.

"Not yet anyway," he says unexpectedly "Katniss I saw you pinned to the ground and didn't do anything about it! What if that was one of those Career tributes we saw tonight?" he explodes jumping from the bed and crossing to the other side of the room. He stops near the window pressing his face into the blackness.

"I just _froze,_" he whispers so quietly I almost miss it.

I drop the makeshift ice pack from my wrist and rise to meet him.

"You can't blame yourself!" I exclaim turning him towards me "It was unexpected."

"That didn't stop you! You threw yourself to save me!" he cracks the shame evident in his voice.

"What do you think I'm going to do?" I yell exasperated "Not trust you anymore?"

"I wouldn't blame you," he replies quietly trying to turn away from me.

"Gale, listen to me" I say gripping him firmly "I need more than anyone out here. I trust you with my life, always have."

"Yeah well maybe you shouldn't."

"Don't be ridiculous. Think about how many times you've saved my skin back home!"

"That's different," he says with a shake of his head "But I am _never_ going to let that happen again," he says determined now.

I nod happy to get him out of his depression.

"Here, put the ice back on," he says leading me back towards the bed.

The ice welcomely eases the throb of my wrist and we sit back in silence for a few moments.

"So thanks properly," says Gale.

"What for?"

"Saving _my_ skin."

"You weren't going to get stabbed," I mutter embarrassed but he simply shrugs.

"Do you think Haymitch is going to pull his act together?" I ask doubtfully after some more silence.

"Pull it together, no," scoffs Gale "Help us? He better, we have a deal."

We fall into stillness again but this time my mind is buzzing with Haymitch's words _"Shame you both had to turn up this year."_ The shock I felt at hearing Gale's name at the reaping has taken its time to digest into this horrid sickness. But it's in full force now. Every time I repeat the phrase in my head a new and more horrible meaning becomes clear to me.

We might die.

I might watch Gale die.

Only one of us can make it out.

The last one breaks me. Only one of us can survive. The truth of that sentence is so powerful I feel winded and I let out an involuntary choke.

I feel Gale's eyes on me. He's been watching my silent battle and I know he knows exactly what it's about.

"Katniss," he begins with a glint in his voice "There's only one thing we can do. Be smart, be cunning. One of us will win. Whoever does will make sure the other's family is safe."

It's tragic that this is our best.

But Gale's words light a fire inside me, a burning resignation. One of us will. _Nobody _will get in the way of it.

"One of us will," I repeat my thought conveying every bit of the fire I feel within me. Gale nods, he believes it too.

I can feel the change. Something inside of us has ignited and even as lay back on the bed, gripping hands again, the fire inside us burns on.

One of us will.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! Been a while but the new chapter is here! Enjoy and review what you think, please. : ) **

**Katniss pov**

Sunlight pours in through the windows warming my back. I bathe in it drowsily for a second almost drifting to sleep when-

"Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" Effie trills causing me to shove my head under the pillow and groan. "I mean it! We have a schedule," she chides as a response.

Grudgingly I sit up and rub my eyes as her footsteps fade. The brilliant light paints the room painfully bright and I have to squint against it. Gale beside me is on his side and has curled a pillow around his ears. We both had a restless night, falling asleep only to be awakened from nightmares. I grimace at the thought, the nightmares were constant and horribly vivid; previous arenas and the explicitly gruesome deaths in them, Prim screaming for help and me not being able to reach her, our families at home starving without us. I shake my head and try to remember what I felt last night.

The fire.

We're not going to die gruesome deaths, Prim's at home safe and sound and our families are being taken care of. I repeat this over and over until I'm almost convinced.

"I think it's time to get up," I say giving Gale a prod. Sharing beds is such a norm in District Twelve I hadn't even stopped to think what we looked like. He makes a noncommittal grunt before lifting his head out from under the pillow.

I swear aloud.

"Look that bad?" he says with a sleepy smile.

A large black bruise marks his jaw and his lip has nastily swollen. Purple bags line his eyes that must mimic my own.

"Worse than bad."

"How's your wrist?" he asks.

"Good," I reply whilst flexing it "the ice must have helped."

He nods, stretches his arms in a wide arc and pulls himself out of bed, towards the window. He whistles a low impressed note.

"What is it?" I ask curiously and he motions for me to join. My eyes widen when I see. The world flashing out of the window is so completely different to our own. Instead of greenery and fields there are dunes of yellow sand. I guess I forgot how fast the train was travelling. We both watch for a while engrossed by the desert.

Finally Gale pulls away from the window and shakes his head "Meet you outside in five?"

"Sure," I reply vaguely, still transfixed by the scenery.

He leaves the room and I bring myself back to reality. _If we want to win, we need trees_ I think firmly.

I open the enormous doors of the wardrobe and peer inside. Gale and I both slept in our clothes and the line of buttons down the back of my mother's dress has painfully imprinted on my skin. The idea of something more comfortable is irresistible so I dig through the piles of silk and fur and finally find a pair of black pants and a simple green tee. I exchange the mockingjay pin from my dress to the top and only stop to brush my teeth before leaving to the corridor.

Gales steps out of his room and together we make it to the dinning cart. Inside a surly Haymitch slouches in his chair, the remains of his black eye hardly visible and obviously iced. He stares moodily at his empty glass. Effie on the other hand darts around the room muttering under her breathe about the 'schedule'.

"Ah you're he- Good riddance! What happened to you?" she asks brazenly catching sight of us.

"I uh," Gale starts shiftily, caught unprepared "tripped and fell. In the shower," he finishes lamely.

"Well you really ought to be more careful!" Effie scolds, drawing closer to look at the bruising "We'll have to get your stylist to cover it up."

"No. We'll let it show," Haymitch speaks firmly, lifting his head.

"And why would we do that?" asks Effie sourly.

"The audience will think he's mixed up with another tribute on the train."

"That's illegal, Haymitch!" she adds outraged.

"If you get caught. The bruise says he fought and got away with it. It stays."

Haymitch and Effie continue bickering as we sit down and all the way through breakfast. I couldn't care less, though, especially not around a loaded table of food. I indulge in everything particularly enjoying the hot chocolate and fresh bread rolls. I stop only when I'm full and Haymitch's voice rises threateningly.

"Leave it Effie! It goes with the angle we're playing this year."

"What angle?" Gale and I immediately snap up.

"Calm down," Haymitch sighs annoyed "We'll be arriving soon enough and you'll be spending the day with your stylists. That's what you should be worrying about."

"But-"

"No buts. We have a deal, remember," he eyes us carefully "instead think about this, you are to go along with everything and anything your stylist says-"

"But-"

"No buts!" he snaps "You behave and we can talk angles later tonight."

I sink into my seat bitterly hoping that nudity is not the next big thing in my stylist's eyes.

We wait out the remainder of the trip in the dining cart, plunging into blackness for a short amount of time whilst in the tunnels leading to the Capitol. When the bright daylight filters in again Gale and I turn to the windows. My mouth falls open and I quickly close it. I was wrong thinking the desert was different to District Twelve. _This_ is different. Skyscrapers of every colour and design flood my view, intervened between them are colourful and exotic gardens, beaming lights everywhere, sleek cars gliding across shiny roads and hovercrafts buzzing above it all. I try to not be awed but fail miserably. I have to remind myself what kind of sick place this is. Then I catch sight of the people, Effie in her colourful dresses, towering wigs and eccentric make-up looks modest. I step back when they start pointing and cheering, revolted. We're nothing more than a cattle truck rolling into a slaughterhouse for them.

The train slows and the city outside vanishes as we pull into the underground station. The train's orderlies appear and usher us out and into the Remake Centre which is above the station. I catch a glimpse of some other tributes before the four of us are directed down a long corridor.

"District Twelve, female tribute, here," the orderly says, before a large metal door that slides open.

"Remember," Haymitch has time to growl as I step in and the door slides shut.

I'm left in a sterling silver room. I turn thinking I'm alone, before I'm swallowed by a squawking mass of colour.

"Look at her nails!" gasps a pea green woman grabbing my hand.

"What about her dry skin! Have you ever moisturized?" enquires a man with shockingly purple lips.

"I don't think she's ever shaved, either!" yells another women yanking up my pant leg.

They introduce themselves and begin to work on me at once. First they strip me off all my clothes and order me into a foamy pink bath, then I'm pulled out of the bath and scrubbed with gritty cream, then its back into another bath, dried off, lathered in wax and stripped of most my hair, into another bath, and finally coated in lotion.

I'm left stinging and naked.

"There now," begins Venia, who' swirling gold tattoos make me dizzy "You're looking almost human now!" she laughs and Octavia and Flavius join in. It's still another half hour, though before they decide I'm ready to meet my stylist and leave to get him.

I wait, expecting for the flamboyant pin-up to burst through the door any moment now. _You behave and we can talk angles later tonight. _Just do it, Katniss.

The door slides open and I look up.

_What?_

There's been a mistake; this man can't be my stylist. Stylists are meant to have surgically altered faces and dyed hair and wear the latest crazy trends. Not look human and have kind expressions.

"Hello, Katniss, I'm Cinna," he says in a warm voice.

"Hi." I answer, not even trying to hide my disbelief. He smiles when he notices.

"Not what you expected?"

"No. I thought you'd look a little more like my prep team," I say.

He laughs "Well I hope it's a welcome surprise."

"Very," I say with a weak smile "You must be new. I haven't seen you around before."

"Yes, this is my first year in the games."

"So you got stuck with District Twelve," I sum up.

"No," he says dark eyes meeting mine "I asked for it, actually."

I wonder if he's lying for a moment, trying to spare my feelings. Why would he, though?

"Could you stand up, please?" he asks and I comply. Nodding he steps forward and carefully begins to survey me. It's only then that I remember I'm completely naked and an uncomfortable blush creeps onto my cheeks. I want nothing more than to cross my arms but remind myself of Haymitch's deal.

"Here, you can put this on," he states after a while, fetching my robe "and we can move in here to have a chat," he adds motioning to a door.

We make our way through it and find ourselves in a modern sitting room. Cinna leads me to a plush couch and sits across from me. With a push of a hidden button a three-course meal appears from the chrome table before us, and we begin to eat. Between hungry mouthfuls my eyes wander out towards the enormous window that faces onto the Capitol skyline.

"Wait," I say suddenly remembering "aren't we underground?" I look confusedly from the window to Cinna.

"Yes. It's just an illusion," he answers with a nod towards the window "You can set it to be anything you like. Here," Cinna passes me tiny silver remote from somewhere.

I click a black button and watch as the glamorous skyline transforms into a long stretch of ocean, then into a busy Capitol street, then to a quite green forest.

I can almost smell the familiar scent of leaves and soil.

"It's beautiful," Cinna comments after a moment.

"Yes," I nod turning back to focus on my food.

When we both finish the remains of the lunch disappear back into the table.

"Now about tonight," Cinna begins "Portia, she's Gale's stylist, and I will be dressing you in matching costumes. Of course they have to reflect your District's industry," Cinna continues and I nod "In our opinion the coal miner's get up is much too overdone. No this year, you'll be something completely different."

I nod bracing myself for whatever it is.

"Tell me, you're not afraid of fire are you?" he grins.

I grin back suddenly pleased. _How fitting._

/

Cinna's done an impressive job. I look dangerous yet attractive. Dark powder on my eyelids makes my plain grey eyes glow under newly shaped brows, my lips are very faintly coloured and powder coats my cheeks, bringing out sharp angles in my face. Somehow I am still recognizable as Katniss Everdeen. Maybe it's the hair, still braided back but executed by Cinna's nimble hands. _I want the audience to remember you from your reaping. I want them to recognize you in the arena. Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire. _Cinna's words ring in my head.

My nerves ease slightly as Gale and Portia join us. Gale matches me in the skin tight black body suit and black cape; his face has been left raw with the bruise and cut lip showing.

"You ready, Catnip?" he asks appraising me.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

We're directed back down the long corridor we entered through, but this time we turn into a large spacious room that serves as a massive stable. Inside twelve horse drawn carriages await and twenty-two other tributes. As we enter, eyes rake us down, taking in our costumes and looks. We don't look like much at the moment, especially compared to districts such as 1 and 2, who are dressed in heavily jewelled tunics and golden armour. I can see the other stylists sighing in relieve and even laughing at our plain jumpsuits. I take one look at Cinna before deciding I've been right to trust him so far. His face is modestly triumphant already.

Gale and I are helped onto our designated carriage whilst Cinna and Portia make a fuss over our positions and arranging our capes. The Capitol anthem begins blasting from behind heavy doors as they add their finishing touches. The doors pull open and District One's carriage begins rolling out. Both the girl and the boy begin to madly wave and paste gleaming smiles on their faces as they meet the awaiting crowds. I snort in disgust. The other carriages follow and all of a sudden we're next. Cinna is at our side and with the flick of a lighter sets our capes on fire.

"Just," he meets my eyes "be true to yourselves."

The horses lurch forward and I grip onto Gale's arm, unsteadied. The unbelievably bright colours of the people milling above us, blind me for a second before I can take in my surroundings. The stands on either side of us are packed impossibly high with citizens, all of them cheering, clapping and calling for us. I catch sight of a gigantic screen up ahead as it displays Gale and me, blazing. We look amazing; the fierce flames that cover us but also our demeanour. We look unforgiving. The crowds scream our first names and shower us with roses. I tighten my grip on Gale's hand and look at him; his grey eyes are swimming with the reflected flames and his bruised face is even more vivid under the intense lights. He gives me the slightest nod before lifting our hands into the air, above our heads. The crowds go absolutely wild then, cheering louder for our attention. We ignore it, though. It's not for _them_. It's not about acting and pooling in stupid sponsors, not now anyway. It's just about us. We're here and we hate it! I scowl angrily and with another glance at the screen see what they must be seeing.

We look deadly.

We look ourselves.


	5. Chapter 5

**I am so sorry that this took so long! Hopefully, you all had a lovely Christmas and a Happy New Year and can forgive me for the long wait! :)**

**Katniss pov**

"Oh and the crowds loved you!" Effie squeals near my ear "This is superb! District Twelve has never got this much attention! You literally outshined all the other tributes!" she titters excitedly.

The District Two tributes only a few meters away from us stop and turn to stare. They're both dressed in elaborate suites of golden armour, showing of their toned arms and muscled bodies. I imagine any other year they would've made a great impression.

Except like Effie said, we literally outshined them.

"C'mon, let's take this upstairs," Haymitch says giving as a firm push away from them.

As we're getting guided towards an open elevator, I twist my head round to take one more glance at them. Both sets of cold eyes bore back.

"Don't start making enemies, just yet," Haymitch growls in my ear and I turn back.

We step inside the tiny glass room and the doors resolutely shut behind us.

"I'll be honest; I hadn't been expecting a reaction like this!" Effie continues breathlessly "Absolutely fantastic!" she pauses "Well I suppose you could have smiled a bit more," she adds slightly deflated "At all actually."

"Nonsense Effie," Cinna says calmly "They made a great impression by acting unfazed. Everyone's used to smiling tributes, Gale and Katniss were far more enthralling," he finishes smoothly.

"Of course you're right!" Effie beams happily again.

She punches the round button with the glowing number twelve on it and the elevator begins to shoot upwards. It's incomparably smoother and faster than the dingy, rickety elevators that work in the mines, and deports us on the twelfth floor in less than a second. The doors ping open and my eyes bulge out. The apartment before us is probably worth more than the whole Seam.

"Oh I love the colour scheme the designers have opted for this year!" Effie breathes "Simply lovely!"

She prances up ahead as the rest of us step out.

"You should probably change out of those costumes," Portia says kindly "They are more so designed for style rather than comfort."

The flames have finally flickered and died out on our suits. I hadn't noticed before, probably from nerves or anticipation, but the costume is extremely restricting and uncomfortable.

"Where are our rooms?" Gale asks.

"Down that corridor," Haymitch points "Dinner's on the table, in there," he points again towards a doorway, through which I can already smell the rich, mouth watering aroma of food.

/

When Gale and I come into the dining room, dressed in clothes the huge programmed wardrobes shot out, everyone else is seated and waiting. As soon as we join them, waiters in white tunics begin pulling out platters of food and filling our glasses with drinks. The atmosphere at the table is light and positive as Effie is still buzzing about our performance, Cinna and Portia are constantly being praised on their wonderful designs and Haymitch appears more sober and civil than I've ever seen.

A silent waitress reaches out to refill my glass and I grab her hand in protest "No, it's fine, I'm full," I begin to say whilst looking up at her "Hey! I know you!"

From some deep and distant memory, I recognize her! Her dark red hair and pale heart shaped face swim before my eyes as I try to remember from where.

"Don't be silly, Katniss!" Effie snorts "She's an Avox."

"What's an Avox?" Gale says blankly.

"They're a traitor or criminal of some sort. The Capitol cuts of their tongues and employs them as servants," Haymitch fills in.

I squint at the girl as she hurries to clear my plate "I'm sure I've seen you before. Gale is she from-" I stop as I see his face.

He's sitting motionless in his chair, shocked and gaping, so different to just moments ago.

"Gale, what's wrong?" I ask sharply, glancing from them both.

The girl meets my gaze for a second before hurrying away, but its enough.

Everything slows down. I remember those eyes. Once, they were scared, desperate and pleading, boring into mine.

I drop my head and stare down at my lap, I can't face her. I can hardly believe it! _How can this be happening, here and now? _I'd think I made a mistake but Gale's expression makes me sure.

"What is it?" Cinna asks worriedly.

"Um, it's nothing," I stammer lifting my head "I just- I thought I knew her," I fade off weakly.

Gale clears his throat, snapping out of his state "She just looked like someone from school."

I'm not sure if they all buy it but we leave it at that. The previously light atmosphere disappears though, and is replaced with a much more awkward and forced one. Finally Portia brings up talk of strategies and everyone joins in.

"Didn't you say we'd talk angles tonight?" I ask Haymitch, grabbing the opportunity.

Before he can reply, Effie jumps in bossily "Well, we do have a tight schedule, and I didn't have this planned. But seeing as we are," she looks down at the tiny bejewelled watch on her wrist "twelve and half minutes ahead, how about you use this time and then we'll all watch the parade recaps as planned?"

So Cinna and Portia follow Effie out the room, leaving Gale and I with Haymitch and a handful of Avoxes, _she's_ defiantly not among them, who are clearing the table.

Haymitch coughs and then slurps down half his wine glass before starting "You can be the strongest, the fastest, and most skilled tribute in the arena, and you'll still need a sponsor at one time or another."

"You're in charge of that, aren't you?" Gale says.

"I'm in charge of securing the sponsors. The rest is up to you."

"What exactly _is_ the rest?" I ask warily.

"Well, you get people to like you."

"Then, I don't think we did a very good job tonight," Gale says honestly.

"No, you did fine," Haymitch says with a wave of his hand "Here you don't always get liked for being nice and polite. You get liked for being brutal or cunning or witty."

"So how are we going to be likeable?"

"You're going to be smart in the arena. You'll be determined and strong, stopping at nothing to get home."

I nod and look over at Gale "Sounds right?" I ask.

"And," Haymitch cuts across "You'll be in love."

Silence stretches over the room as I scrutinize Haymitch to see if he's joking.

"_What_?" Gale and I finally answer.

"You heard me."

_He's being serious!_ I look over at Gale; needing to be reassured I'm not the only one thinking this is insane.

"What?" Gale repeats looking confused.

Haymitch sighs, irritated "Do you need me to spell it out? It's never been done before; sponsors will be literally lining up for you!"

I open my mouth and dumbly close it again; speechless.

"Look, the Capital already saw you together. You held hands at the reaping and the station and you made it clear you were a _team_ at the parade," he says "And I can sell the _star crossed lovers _from District Twelve."

"Star crossed lovers?" I repeat dumfounded.

"You've got to remember, they just want a good show," he says with a shrug.

Haymitch wants us to pretend we're in love. _He wants me to pretend to be in love with Gale! _

"Why do- I mean how- I mean we-" I stop trying when I realize I have no idea what I'm even trying to say.

"This would help you," Haymitch says ignoring me "and you know it."

We all sit silently, mulling over what's been said. I can't help but think back on all the Hunger Games I've been old enough to remember. Unless you're a Career, an alliance with your District partner is rare. But it's still seen. Never has there been love, though. I mean, Careers sometimes flirt with each other to win over sponsors and to play it up for the cameras, but it's not love. It's not _star crossed lovers_. It's not what we could be.

"Catnip, we said anything," Gale says in an undertone so Haymitch can't hear, leaning towards me "anything to make sure it's one of us."

I nod "It _would_ get us sponsors. And if we can get our hands on a bow, some knives, rope and wire…"

We need a bow. Two preferably. It's our best weapon and the easiest way to get food. The knives would come in handy for close combat and are generally always needed in the arena. The wire and rope could be made into snares for game and maybe even traps.

"Can we do it?" Gale asks, sounding edgy.

"I think so," I respond slowly looking away from him "I mean back home, people sort of assumed that we were," I say awkwardly.

"So, we could," he prompts, still whispering.

"We could," I answer looking straight ahead. It's our best chance. So why is so hard to accept?

Maybe, because he's your best friend! Maybe, because sometimes (even though you always denied it!) you seemed so similar, you wondered if it _would_ have been possible, for real. Or maybe, just because you've both been reaped, whatever _could_ have happened years into the future, never will. Of course it's hard to accept! But it is you're best chance.

I take a deep breathe "I'm okay with it."

"Same."

I clear my throat "We'll do it," I say addressing Haymitch, who at least had the decency not to listen in on us.

"Good-," he starts but is interrupted by Effie bowling into the room.

"The recaps are on!"

Haymitch sighs, swallows the rest of his glass, and stands up to follow Effie.

/

At the end of the recaps everyone's back to praising Cinna and Portia. They sure deserve it. The cameras stay on us much longer than they did on any other chariot.

I try and view us like somebody from the Capitol would. It's not very hard. As a stranger, even I'd guess there was something between Gale and I. We're so much more connected than the other tributes.

"Tomorrow mornings you're first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it," Haymitch says briskly after switching off the TV "Now get some sleep while the grown-ups talk."

Dismissed we walk to our rooms together. The door to my room slides open and the redheaded Avox comes out. Her arms are laden with the parade costume I dropped on the floor when I changed. She looks up to find us.

"We're so sorry," I blurt out desperately as she looks back down "We should have-"

"Katniss, you'll get us all into trouble," Gale whispers urgently in my ear and I see the Avox girl nod slightly.

"Sorry about the mess in there," I lie lamely, pointing to my open room which is spotless.

The girl hurries forward past us.

We could get in trouble. If anyone found out we saw the girl captured, then they'd defiantly ask what we were doing in the middle of a strictly illegal wood with a bow. I don't want to make it any worse for her either. I don't think you're actually meant to speak to Avoxes unless it's an order. All I want is for to understand how _ashamed _I am for standing by and letting her get caught, and the other boy get killed.

I wonder if it's at all possible that some of the people in the Capitol feel any remorse when they see twenty-three children die each year. I suppose they don't because something would have changed.

Gale leans down and whispers quietly "We'll find some place to talk."

I nod but I know it won't be today, it's late and we have no idea where.

"So, goodnight" Gale says straightening up.

"Yeah, night," I say noticing he hasn't made a move to his door yet.

We both keep lingering. _Should_ we be sleeping in the same room? I mean we will be star crossed lovers in a couple of days. And to be honest waking up from a nightmare alone, doesn't sound very appealing.

_Jeez, get a grip Katniss!_ You've spent one night with him, what about the other sixteen years? You seemed to have been just fine with them!

"See you tomorrow," I say quickly, stepping into my room before I can think about it anymore.

In the dim light of the room, I strip off my clothes and change into one of the many sets of silk pyjamas that the wardrobe offers, and climb into the enormous bed. I wrap the sheets tightly around me and curl my knees close to my chest.

I grit my teeth and profusely try to ignore how gapingly cold and empty the bed feels.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys, longest chapter yet! Hope you enjoy and soon the action will be starting! Only one more chapter (I think) before we're in the arena! **

**Thanks for all the reviews so far!**

I wake up, groggily reaching around for Prim. My hand meets nothing and I sleepily raise my head to see if she's climbed in with mother.

It takes a few seconds for my mental picture of home to disappear and turn into the sleek room of the Capitol. Slowly I crawl out of bed, feeling my annoyance, anger and longing deep inside me. For a second, in my sleepy haze, I thought I really was home. _Stupid, you've got to stop pretending. _I walk across into the huge bathroom, turn on the shower and clamber in. Moodily I jam buttons and only annoy myself further when I can't get it right. The water shoots out either scalding or freezing. I swear as I somehow manage to cover myself in lavender foam. Giving up, I try to wash off all the foam and get out as quickly as possible.

I shiver from the last blast of icy water and step back into my room. An outfit has been laid out on the bed whilst I was in the shower. The bed is also freshly made. I know it was an Avox, maybe even the girl. Shaking my head to clear it, I put on the plain black pants, simple long sleeve shirt, and a pair of black boots. Dressed, I take a few steps and nod, they are light and comfortable. They are for training after all.

The sound of voices filters in through the door. They sound far away enough to be coming from the dining room. My stomach growls with the thought of food and I quickly step out.

The sight of Gale's door stops me. The memory of yesterday hits me hard. Our angle.

Then I hear his voice clearly. It's him in the dining room, and he must be with Haymitch.

I walk slowly into the dining room and find Haymitch and Gale sitting opposite each other, talking. It's strange to see them so civil when just two nights ago they were at each other's throats. They lift their heads at the sound of my approach but don't say anything. I've half laden my plate with stew before Haymitch finally speaks.

"So, you can shoot?"

"_Why_ didn't you wake me before?" I panic, suddenly annoyed and nervous that I've been left out of this.

"You need your sleep."

"And what about you?" I ask turning in on Gale.

"You'd better count yourself lucky," Haymitch cuts in harshly "In a few days you won't be able to risk much sleep."

"Besides, I couldn't. Been up since four," Gale explains tiredly, and I can see now under his healing bruise, the dark purple bags that haven't left his face since the reaping.

I shrug irritably, sitting down, still half annoyed but also half grateful. I had a completely dreamless sleep.

"So?" Haymitch prompts.

I consider the question whilst tearing some bread apart with my fingers. Am I good? I'm not _as_ good as my father, but he had more time. And I'm better than Gale but _I've_ had more practice. I place the bread into my mouth and slowly chew before finally answering "I'm alright."

"_What_ are you talking about?" Gale says loudly, looking up at me "you're _better _than alright. You're great, Katniss," he turns to Haymitch "perfect aim. She's had a bow in her hands since she was eight."

It's hard to hide my surprise. Gale hardly ever compliments anyone, especially me. I crack a very slight smile and feel my mood lift slightly.

"I'm good then, I guess. We both are," I say.

Haymitch nods "Anything else? Can you throw a spear, wield a mace?"

"I'm okay with a knife, and pretty basic with traps and snares. It's Gale who's good at that," I fill in.

"But that's literally were the list ends," sums up Gale.

"I wouldn't discount hand-to-hand combat for you yet" Haymitch says thoughtfully to Gale "And anyway, what you've got is a good start. Plenty of tributes know absolutely nothing."

"And the other half have trained their whole lives for this," I grumble remembering that small detail.

"True," Haymitch says "But there's nothing you can do about that. So here's the plan for today," he begins "Stick together. I want you at each other's sides by the minute. Next, learn something new. Who knows maybe you're great with a pike. But make sure to keep away from the archery station, or anything else you know you're good at. Keep your skills a secret from the other tributes."

We both nod.

"I can't guarantee a bow in the arena, so you'll both just have to impress the gamemakers at the private assessment."

I nod grimly. I hadn't even thought about the fact that there might not be a bow.

"Good. That's all I can say. Effie will meet you at the elevator in fifteen minutes," he nods slowly before adding "Whatever you do, just remember your angle. It starts now.

He rises then and leaves us.

Gale slowly loads up another plate of food and joins me in eating quietly. I know him well enough to tell he's just as worried as me.

/

At five to ten we arrive in the small (by Capitol standards) lobby leading to the training room. It turned out our meeting with Effie was a brisk lesson on politeness and good manners. Apparently we have to act civil towards to the people trying to kill us. And apparently we're also late. Everyone else is already there.

"Twelve," a strongly built women nods "you're here. We can begin," she swings round to easily push open a huge set of steel doors. "Everyone in."

"I thought Haymitch said ten," Gale remarks to me, as we pile in.

"He did," I say grimly, already preoccupied with watching the Careers eyeing the huge supply of sharp knives and swords.

The woman introduces herself as Atala, the head trainer, and explains how training will work. Two days of full training and then a half day after which we will be privately assessed. She nods casually over to a raised podium where a long table stretches out and a group of gamemakers sit.

"Final rule," Atala continues "No fighting against other tributes. If you want to practice hand-to-hand, ask one of the instructors."

She releases us and the Careers immediately jump to the most dangerous weapons. I'm slightly overwhelmed, now that we're meant to stay away from everything we know, I have no idea where to start. Anything we learn here could potentially save our lives.

"Where to?" Gale asks twisting round to see everything.

I shrug unsurely glancing around, my eyes falling to the knotting station which is clear of other tributes "how about we start with knots?"

The instructor smiles at us and guides as through some simple knotting, useful for securing things, making basic traps and weaving nets. Gale and I breeze through it, and the instructor sets us a more difficult knot that goes around your waist and allows you to safely scale down something. Gale's long fingers knot and tie with his unbelievable natural grace. He's finished before I've even started and the instructor applauds him enthusiastically. I work quickly trying to catch up, but my fingers end up getting caught in the center of the huge knot. Giving up on tying the knot successfully I try to yank my fingers out, the circulation already cutting off.

"Got yourself tangled, Catnip?" Gale laughs easily, and I realize I've missed that sound. The sound of genuine laughter.

"You're just a showoff," I mutter angrily, tugging desperately at the rope with my other hand.

"Here," he says hiding a smirk. He effortlessly begins to undo the knot, his fingers brushing against my skin. The rope falls free from me in a matter of seconds and he catches it. I gratefully flex my fingers.

"You went over instead of under," he says "you've got to start right or the whole thing will stuff up. Like this," He pulls the rope back around me and deftly works it to end up matching his.

"See?" he asks.

"Yeah, I see," I roll my eyes and grin, of course Gale is being a know-it-all.

"Aw, c'mon Catnip, I promise to let you be better at the next station," he smiles cockily.

"Let me, huh?" I arch an eyebrow "Okay, how about," I quickly sift my gaze through the different stations "camouflage?" I say with a malicious grin. If there is anything Gale's awful at it is art, and absolutely anything to do with it.

"Fine," he says calmly.

The tiny girl from 11 is the only tribute at the camouflage station, and she quickly moves to the side when we arrive. I give her a slight smile as she darts a look at us, before I realize what I'm doing. I'm a tribute and she's tribute, there's no point getting friendly. But as we work side by side I can't help feeling for her. She's Prim's age and just as small, only difference she didn't have anyone to save her.

The instructor sets us the task of camouflaging a tiny shelter each. After ten minutes, the entrance to mine is practically hidden behind a few branches and vines, looking close to undistinguishable from the mini woodland around it. Gale's on the other hand screams suspicious, his leaves are piled on too thickly and not the right colour. I smirk as the instructor, a stout middle-aged man, stresses the importance of choosing the right shade of foliage.

"Ah, very well done," he nods at my shelter, approvingly.

"Shut up," Gale says flatly before I've even said anything "Weapons?"

I nod victorious, surveying the area. The stations closest to us are spear throwing, axes, and maces.

Since I have no experience in any of them, I choose the first.

"Spears?"

"Sure."

Gale goes first, picking a sleek silver spear from the rack provided, and aiming for a large round target about fifteen meters away. Copying the instructor he throws it. It flies too high and his aim is slightly off, the spear embeds itself a foot above and two to the left of the target. Still, very decent for a first go.

"Not bad," I nod.

"Hardly," Gale scoffs back. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and choose a shorter and steadier spear.

I watch the instructor one more time before throwing. I aim straight ahead for the same target.

The spear sails forwards and then clatters to the ground. Loudly. I wince and let the instructor come closer to demonstrate again.

We practice for another half hour, before moving onto other weapons, pikes, maces, and throwing axes, before lunch is called.

We pile into an adjoining room with a steaming assortment of food, laid in a buffet style, with Avoxes serving. Tables are piled in the centre. The careers choose the largest table, and the six of them laugh and joke loudly, looking deceitfully at ease. Gale and I are the only other tributes talking.

The tension is very thick. Everybody is watching everybody. I can't help to notice that Gale and I cop more looks than many of the other tributes, and I wonder if our angle is working. We're sitting just like we would of at school, opposite each other, heads bent when we talk.

I felt almost _normal_ in training. Gale was by my side and I forgot what was really happening. Watching the other tributes, I realize I don't know a single thing about them; who's good with knives and who's bad with ropes. I should have been paying more attention, learning who to keep away from.

After lunch Gale and I return with a new determination. We cover twice as many stations than before; edible plants, slingshots, fire making, how to treat poisonous bites, blow guns, and knives, all whilst judging other tributes.

The boy from 1 headed straight to the spears after lunch and hit every human target from twice the distance we were practicing at. The girl from 2 was absolutely deadly with throwing knives. The boy from 2, Cato, I heard someone call, used a massive sword as if it was an extension of his own arm. Both tributes from 4 struggled with poisonous plants, but excelled with making complicated trapping nets. The boy from 9 was skilled with a machete. The tiny girl from 11 turned out to be an excellent climber.

Everybody seemed to have strengths. It was just a matter of whether they were greater than ours.

With Atala calling fifteen minutes to go, Gale and I decide on our last station; tridents. Coincidently they are located right next to the archery station, where we can at least get a glimpse of the range of bows. Tired from the day, we set to work, wielding and throwing the tridents. Half my attention is focused on watching the District 1 girl use a bow next to us. She's practicing with her district partner, and I immediately feel relieved as she shoots. She holds the bow too low, and her hands are in the wrong place. Her arrow skims past the human dummy she was aiming for.

Suddenly her blonde head turns straight towards me, her eyes meeting mine. I now it's too late to turn away. I was staring and she knows it. Doing the only thing I can, I lift my chin slightly and hold her gaze.

"How cute," she finally breaks away; snorting to her partner "Twelve's matching! Do you think they're too poor to afford two designs? " she pouts her lips in mock pity.

I refuse to let my eyes drop down, because honestly I hadn't noticed. Haymitch and Cinna obviously know what they're doing.

Suddenly there's a low whistling sound and a heavy thud beside me. It's Gale. He's thrown his trident and stabbed one of the furthest dummies in the chest!

"C'mon, Katniss. We're done here," he reaches for my hand, and pulls me closer to him. He turns me around and we walk away. I feel their stares.

I swallow thickly and whisper to him "Next Finnick Odair, are we?"

"I just saved your back," he retorts. So close to him, holding his hand, I can feel his pulse. It's racing. A lucky shot.

"Ours. They were teasing you too."

"Not anymore, I guess," he gestures his head backwards to where District 1 are furiously whispering to each other. Their smirks are wiped clean of their faces.

I can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

/

The next day of training passes almost identically. We eat breakfast with Haymitch, train hard the rest of the day, try to pick up as much skill as possible, and return exhausted. We're grilled about training by Haymitch; what did you learn? What are you getting good at? What are the other tributes skills? Weaknesses? And then we go to bed.

By the third day I'm keeping a tally of everyone's abilities, not just careers. The girl from 5, who'd I completely ignored the first day, is cunning and quick, the district 6 boy is good with a blow gun, both from 7 wield axes easily, the boy from 11, named Thresh, is huge and seems to be comfortable with most weapons he tries his hand at, and the girl, Rue, I can't help watching. She's climbs high above the equipment practically unnoticed by the others with such ease and grace, I can tell she's been doing it her whole life. Even with her tiny size and demeanor she shouldn't be counted out, she could spend the whole games hiding without anyone noticing.

The time for the private evaluations looms closer every second, and soon the District 1 boy is called in. After roughly twenty minutes, the girl follows. Slowly the number of tributes begins to dwindle. After their session, no one returns. It's been fifteen minutes since the door closed behind tiny little Rue. Gale's next, then me. My nails begin turning to shreds between my teeth.

"You shouldn't be nervous," Gale says clearly tense "You know you're good. Just show _them_ that."

"I haven't practiced in days, let alone with a different bow!"

"Katniss," he says "you'll be fine."

I listen to his voice; closing my eyes, and will his words to be true. We need these high scores.

"What about you?" I ask reopening my eyes "got a plan?"

This morning Haymitch decided it'd be best if we truly played to our strengths. Though both of us are good archers, Gale's an expert in snares. So Haymitch set him the task of combining archery and trap setting.

"I've got an idea," he replies slowly "a huge trap. Lots of components, and it'll be set off with an arrow, but if one thing goes wrong," he shrugs and grimaces.

"When have you ever stuffed a trap?"

"I've never tried anything on this scale, though."

I nod just as the huge doors open ahead. It's time.

"I'd say good luck, but you don't need it," I hearten watching him get up. I grab his hand impulsively and give it a quick squeeze.

"Thanks," he breathes, hand still in mine, before letting go, and walking away "and, Katniss?" he turns around.

"Yeah?'

"Shoot straight."

I smile tightly "you too."

He nods and walks through the doorway, the doors slowly shutting behind him.

I let out a tense breathe and count the seconds, then minutes, all the while trying to focus.

Fifteen minutes pass. Then twenty. Twenty-five. Longer than anyone else. Finally at just over thirty minutes the doors open ahead.

I stand my legs stiff and my head dizzy.

_Shoot straight._

It's my turn.


End file.
